Yet despite a somewhat rational brain telling oneself it's all just commercialism, it still can be a bummer if you're single. I didn't get married until I was 30, so I knew this well. But, at least one time it turned out ok.

In February of 1993, it was yet another Valentine’s Day I was spending alone. I was 28 and living in Provo, so my lack of a girlfriend/fiancée/wife was even more painfully obvious. My 3 roommates were all out of the apartment, either on dates or playing hockey, but since they were Canadian, one was as good as the other to them.

The self-pity was flowing thick and deep in my living room, and I was wallowing in it as I mindlessly switched channels on the TV. After finding nothing interesting, I sat there in a depressed funk.

But then I started thinking about Margaret McCormick, a sweet, nearly 90-year-old woman who lived by herself in a little brick home across the street from our apartment complex. Margaret’s husband had died just a few years after they were married, and they never had any children. She had spent some 60 years all alone, although she thoroughly and cheerfully enjoyed the occasional visit from a group of BYU students.

I got to thinking that Margaret had spent quite a few Valentine’s Days missing her sweetheart. Then I had a thought: I got in my car, picked up a single rose from a grocery store, and knocked on Margaret’s door. She was absolutely delighted to be remembered on this special day.

Well, somehow that day wasn’t such a bummer anymore. I still went back to my empty apartment, I still didn’t have a sweetheart, but by forgetting about myself for a moment, my really rotten Valentine’s Day turned out to be a pretty good one.